She sniffled and nodded, agreeing with him wholeheartedly. Holding his face in her hands, she stared lovingly into his eyes. “Yes, it is your fault, isn’t it?”

He smiled over her head as he set her down on her feet again and reached into his pocket, sacrificing yet another handkerchief to the Penrod family. “Blow,” he instructed, and she trumpeted into the cloth. “Well done. Are you finished?” he asked, and she nodded. “Good. Come with me.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her to an overstuffed chair, where they settled down, her legs tucked neatly across his lap. She sniffled and snuggled as he nudged her head under his chin, stroking her cheek and hair to soothe her. They sat in easy silence until her sniffles stopped and she finally sighed.

“Are you warmer now?” he asked quietly, and she smiled.

“What is wrong with me, Richard?” she asked after a moment.

“Wrong with you? Now why would you say something silly like that?” He kissed her forehead, gently pressing her head onto his shoulder. “You are perfection.”

That was nice, she thought. Nestled in his arms like a child, she began to play with his cravat. “I worried and worried myself sick about today, I swear it. I must have awoken at four in the morning to get dressed and fretted about whether to wear the horrid lavender dress or the dreaded grey dress.” She wriggled closer to him, her voice becoming even softer. “Tell me again how I am perfection.”

His answer was another deep and thorough kiss. “You are beyond perfection.”

“You are just being kind. You are very kind, you know, and brave and decent and honorable. No, I have bungled this whole thing. I’m such an idiot.” She sighed once and then once again. “I look pitiful. My nose is running, my hair is drenched, my hands are coarse… feel free to disagree with me at any time,” she muttered into his neck.

Fitzwilliam’s senses were lost somewhere in her hair, in the fragrance of flowers and soap. He was very glad to hear her humor emerge again. He glided kisses across the top of her head.

“You have brought others here, have you not? What is wrong with me that you don’t want me in that way, Richard? Why am I so undesirable to you? I thought I was being alluring by loosening my top a little, but you looked horrified.” She hiccoughed then apologized when her head hit his chin.

“We seem to be working at cross-purposes, my love. This has nothing to do with not wanting you. I want you desperately. I hoped you knew that by now.” He kissed her waiting lips. “I love you passionately.” She wriggled joyfully in his lap and threw her arms around his neck.

“ Merciful heavens, ” he moaned with his rampant arousal. “Good God, what in the world was I saying? I can’t remember anything at the moment with you bouncing about.” He hugged her tightly to him and tried to catch his breath. “Ah, yes. The problem, as I see it, is…” he started quietly, “what I was trying to explain to you is that we could meet here, if you truly desire, and begin a relationship with each other, but I know in my heart that you would not be happy, and then neither could I. You would feel used, and worst of all, you would grow ashamed of us, come to blame me and eventually hate me. It is true I’ve been here with mistresses or one-time lovers, but that is all I wanted from them and all they wanted from me.” He kissed her temples and the tip of her nose. “This is very different, though. Don’t you sense that we have a greater future than that? I have known that since the very first moment I saw you.”

She was very still, her head resting on his shoulder. “I, too, felt from the beginning that we were meant to be together, forever.”

He smiled then kissed her mouth softly. “Excellent. I will speak with your mother-in-law tonight, and…” His voice trailed off as she struggled to break free from his arms so that she could look into his face.

“You cannot do that! No! Oh, Richard, you would make my situation so much worse. She will throw me from the house. I will lose any contact with my son. She is only waiting for me to misstep. Please promise that you won’t seek her out or speak to her or tell anyone about us.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “So what do we do? Do you want us to part ways over this? Does it truly mean nothing to you? You know, Amanda, the culture in this country is quite different from yours. The most sophisticated, wealthy, and titled marriages are oftentimes no more than mergers. After an heir is presented, many of these couples go their own way, and no one thinks ill of them as long as they behave discreetly. An affair with you would not harm me in the least, but for you, Amanda, well I have serious doubts. I truly fear that emotionally it will cause you much distress.”

She reflected on what he said. “Though I confess I am very naïve about the mechanics of this, I am also selfish.” His eyes and his lips were so close. “I want you, and I want my boy, both. I see no other way for us, no other immediate answer, and I am agreeable if you are. Besides, how could it be a sin to be loved by you? I want to be loved by you. I need to be loved by you.”

He saw the truth in her eyes, was moved by the trust he saw there. He was also completely aware that he had lost the fight. His fingers began to stroke her hair. “You are so beautiful to me, and you don’t even realize how much. Maybe that’s a good thing, because I am at your mercy as it is.”

She turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand. “Don’t deny us being together, please.” Desperate to possess him, she reached her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

And that was it, a final attachment to functional thought snapping, the last pitiful reserve breached. His entire world was there before him, lying in his arms. If he were to die tomorrow, he would consider his life as being fulfilled having just known for a moment the love and trust of this one woman.

The hand that had rested so innocently on her hip came to life and began an intimate gentle journey, firmly pulling her closer. Fitzwilliam’s speeches and plans, all rational thought, vanished beneath the soft, warm, yielding flesh of a woman, his woman, and the desire in her eyes. He angled his mouth onto hers and crushed her to him, kissing her deeply and passionately—once, twice, and again and again.

When they finally separated, he rested his forehead on hers. The room was about to burst into flames, and he knew it. He made one more attempt at logic. “Amanda, I am rapidly losing control.”

She grunted impatiently, pulling his head down again, pushing his mouth onto hers; his hand came to rest between her silky legs.

“Richard,” she said, her voice breathless, “it has been a long time, since before my son was born. Please don’t be too disappointed with me.”

No longer coherent, he eased her dress down, her breasts bared to his touch.

“I love you,” she whispered in awe, her hands touched his hair, his cheek, his mouth. There was no sound in the room other than their breathing.

“I love you,” he said simultaneously, a growl beginning deep in his throat as his mouth went down to cover hers. He stood then, with her in his arms, to carry her to bed where, undressing each other wildly, they both went mad.

Fitzwilliam was in the grip of an overpowering insanity, much greater than he had ever known before. On fire, he now possessed no ability for coherent thought. He saw only red from inside his closed eyes and forgot time and place.

It was over much too quickly, the explosive release for both triggered nearly immediately by the anticipation of the deed. He was still inside her as he held her fast and rolled onto his side. Neither one was able to calm their breathing anytime soon.

They lay holding each other for a brief time, and then the madness overcame them again, staying with them much longer and growing even more intense than before.

Chapter 16

A disheveled Amanda dragged the heavy chair before the hearth and then took up the poker, shoving it repeatedly into an already roaring fire, while the rain and sleet continued to batter the windows. Even though she had noiselessly slipped into her dress, the back of which remained open with its millions of unreachable tiny buttons, the din from her slamming and thumping and grumbling could have raised the dead.

She found she was still in a wicked temper upon the discovery that her shoes remained obstinately damp. Well, heavens, that was apparently a deliberate insult, so she threw them across the room. Beginning to wheeze with her exertions, she now yanked a throw from another chair and tucked it around her lap for extra warmth. It was no use. Nothing seemed capable of warming her this morning.

She snatched a quick glance at the creature she had so recently left reclining upon the bed—the fiend, the sexual deviant. Before her eyes rested a repulsive debaucher—a seasoned rake upon his cot of crime, a seducer of innocents, sated and smug. She colored deeply at the vile sight and cursed herself for being even more drawn to him now that the deed was done, and done so soundly. Her angry stare dragged across his fuzzy barrel chest and his muscular tree-trunk arms and long powerful legs. She trembled with the remembrance of his overblown male…ego. Crazy, mud blond hair was both falling forward onto his forehead and wildly standing straight up around his head at awkward angles. He smiled sweetly at her.

She sighed. He was beautiful.

***

Fitzwilliam had no idea what to do next, a first for a worldly soldier having just bedded a beautiful woman. Ordinarily, he would kiss her cheek, leave his card, and be off, usually neither requiring nor desiring a second acquaintance. Au contraire, to his dismay now he felt possessive and jealous and disgustingly vulnerable. He was the first to admit he was captured, sunk, defeated. Merde.